Inaudible
by The Sea On the Moon
Summary: Watson realizes one night how Holmes really feels. Start of something deeper between them.


When he came back from his evening it was impossible not to note the sag of his shoulders and his sad frown as he entered the sitting room. It was futile that I tried to stop my mind from racing down the tracks of deductions to realize he had had yet another evening gone horribly wrong. I was concerned deeply for the man that I had roomed with for over a year now. Instead of finding happiness, he had come home most nights looking worn and broken.

I could not help wanting to strangle the half-dozen ladies that had injured his feelings lately. As I watched him make his way around the room to get a glass of brandy before joining me beside the fire in the chair opposite, I wondered how anyone could dislike him. He was the ideal man, a former soldier and still a doctor. A man with social grace and a charming personality, he seemed to be an ideal match. He looked into the fire for a moment before glancing back at me. It was a long time before he looked back at me with the firelight dancing on his features, accentuating the angles of his face with the shadows. The wood crackled as it burned and something shifted in the pit, sending up sparks for a moment.

"What?" He asked, seeming surprised to catch me staring at him.

"You alright dear fellow?" I finally ask, trying my best to offer him genuine concern. My discomfort with women had nothing but exponentially increased with his repeated attempts to find a suitable lover.

"I'll be fine Holmes." Watson answered, sipping on the amber liquid in his glass. He was unhappy that my gray eyes were piercing into him, using every small detail to deduce whatever I could. Suddenly, I could not read his expression as he adapted a straight face he used often in card games. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how I could when he seemed to dislike my interest.

I held back a sharp retort, trying to restrain my frustration with him. He knew I only meant to help him. It was not as though I could help someone who refused to admit there was anything wrong. My clients could not withhold data from me if they expected my help. But rather than my mind losing interest, I found it even more engaged by his lie. I leaned forward, setting my paper on the seat next to me and giving him my full attention.

"What?" He asked again, this time his eyes sparkled challengingly, as if daring me to argue with his declaration. Or warning me that any continued scrutinizing would not be tolerated. I dared to toe the line.

"Did you enjoy your fish?" I asked, the ghost of a smile tugging on the corners of my mouth.

He narrowed his eyes. "I did. Do I even want to know how you deduced that?" Watson inquired.

"But the wine was not to your taste." I went on. The heavy smell of the seafood was clear. If he had had very much to drink, the scent of it would be mixed in, but I didn't detect much.

"Dash it all Holmes I just want left alone." He tried to fend me off. I didn't know what I was doing. I was out of my element with him. Something in me had come to desire his company, and though my calculating mind repelled the idea of trusting him, I found I did. Implicitly.

"You would not have gone out seeking company tonight if that were true." I pointed out, wondering what I was playing at. Toying with the man was not something I felt safe doing. It was not a fear of what he could do to me physically. Though I have rarely seen him use his strength and only ever in need, I know he had it. My more pressing concern was how good he could be at slipping things into food and drink without me knowing.

He sighed, his wrath seeming barely contained. "Yes, I did go out intending to have a good time, but as this was not to be, I would prefer now to be left to sort through my thoughts."

I sat back, debating my options. I didn't see how I could press him any further without overstepping a fine line that I knew had to exist between us somewhere. There was no great amount of wisdom I could lend him in this subject, and though I was trying to remain judicious it was becoming painfully obvious that I was not going to be permitted to share in his news. I was left to wait for him to break through this mood. Though normally emotions repelled me for their unpredictable and volatile nature, I was curious to see the depths of his. What could possibly provoke him to take injury after injury to his pride and confidence for the company of a woman?

I saw no great gain in it for him. Perhaps he read the question in my eyes, for I noted his eyebrow's dip downwards in a gaze of confusion. "What?" He asked me for the third time that evening.

"I do not understand." I finally admitted.

At this, I was surprised that he let out a loud bark of laughter. "Do not understand my need for quiet time?" He asked, giving me a look of disbelief.

"Nay, that I understand thoroughly. It is you I cannot fathom." I said, settling back and scrutinizing him as he blinked in surprise.

"You read my appearance like a fortune teller at our first meeting and you mean to tell me there is something you cannot unravel?" He asked, eyes suddenly vibrant and glimmering in amusement at the thought as his hand swirled to stir the brandy before he sipped it once more.

"Why Watson? Why do you continue to give such creatures your time and attention when it seems that you are gaining insult in return?" I finally voiced the question gnawing on me.

Watson stared at me blankly and for a moment I wondered if I hadn't spoken plainly enough, but then shook his head, shaking with silent laughter. I was left wondering what I had done to amuse him now, though the laughter was a welcome break from his dolefulness. "Creatures Holmes? My how judgmental of half of humanity you are." He sent me a smile and I realized I had somehow cheered him with what I had presumed was a very reasonable question.

"You have been mistreated now on five separate occasions in a month. Forgive me if I seem to find it strange that you continue to try." I replied with a small shrug, the sleeves of my dark red dressing gown moving up on my arms.

"Mistreated? I want to believe that you truly do not understand what you are asking, but something about your manner of asking…" He chuckled again and took a sip of the brandy.

"What do you mean?" It was my turn to bristle as his comment caught me off-guard. What did he think I was doing if not asking an honest question?

"Forgive me Holmes, I should know better to think that you have any idea what you are saying. The way you word your questions are decidedly defensive of me while slandering the sex you see as my enemy. The manner in which you are speaking almost makes you sounds like a friend trying to comfort me through a separation of a couple." Watson finally graced me with an explanation. "I realize that is not your intention of course, but it is the thought that struck me. Calling women 'creatures' and questioning my involvement with them does a lot to boost my spirits, even if you did not intend it that way."

I am silent for several moments, stupefied at his elucidation. It had not been my original intent to bolster his spirit with my questions, but I was not displeased that I had made some progress. "Have you no answer?" I finally whispered softly, wondering what his answer would be if he had one. My curiosity continued to nag me and I drummed my fingers on the arm of the settee, a little impatient with him though I struggled not to reveal it to him too much. He seemed to be silent for hours, and with every passing minute I began to believe he would not answer at all.

"No, Holmes, beyond the want of company and perhaps the deeper longing of intimacy I have no reasons for continuing to allow myself to remain vulnerable to such hurt. However, I am sure those reasons are not explanations that suit your tastes." Watson replied, his smirk irking me even further. If it was only for company, he had plenty of friends, leaving only the intimacy as an excuse for his precarious behavior.

I had known and acknowledged the existence of emotions for a long time. Regardless that I knew he thought me a cold machine, it was a mask I had formed with years of meticulous practice. Emotions existed, but could be controlled with certain methods. They could be used to explain some motives or reactions. They were just as easily guarded and held out of reach if one knew how to avoid the usual entanglements. I had let Watson enter a domain that I was not used to sharing, and seeing him in pain had come to hurt me too. I wished I could dissuade him from future attempts at dalliance, but I had no ideas on how to freeze his desires.

"And what do you look for in these partners exactly?" I asked, hopeful that I might glean some bit of useful information from this line of inquiry.

"I want someone exciting certainly. I am not fond of stagnation anymore either." He sent me an accusatory glance and I felt color rising to my cheeks. To try to hide it I rose to begin to prod the dying fire and leaned against the mantle without facing him. I was silent, hoping he would continue without my needing to prod. "I suppose a good listener would be nice. I want someone that supports my work. A good kisser - "

I looked at him sharply and his face that had been in a tight line of concentration as he thought about his answer creased into a smile once again. "You find me silly don't you?" He asked, seeming unconcerned with my thoughts on the manner and rather looking for honesty.

"It's natural to desire companionship." I replied evenly.

"Not for you." He replied. "In fact I would almost say you're immune to such things." He pointed out. "You need not nor desire anything more than a case to occupy that brain of yours."

I narrowed my eyes. This was his opinion of me? I was stunned his presence hadn't done anything to hinder those assumptions from forming. The rest of my acquaintances believed that of me, but I had hoped my uncharacteristic manner of including him in my life and work would reveal this to be not entirely true. To a chosen few, a select few, I had a heart and the same basic needs as anyone.

It was my turn to laugh. "I am afraid you have inferred incorrectly, my dear Watson." I replied. The use of the possessive title was ignored in the wake of the astonishment that dawned on his face at my confession. I read the dozens of questions in his intense green gaze and the slightly parted lips that seemed to be waiting for his mind to select what question they would voice first. I hurried to give some answers before I would be accosted with questions I didn't want to answer directly.

"I have emotions. Do you not judge me to be human doctor?" I asked, Sending him a simper that he met as he raised his chin in a bit of pride.

"Human yes, but mentally you seem different from the common stock." He replied, running his eyes over my form as if re-examining me.

"I shall leave you my brain when I die doctor for you to study." The comment was spoken without thought and I noted his face darken for a moment. "I have emotions doctor, the same as every other human. I just chose very carefully how I will control them."

He shifted in his seat and took another sip of the brandy, which was beginning to beckon me. Making my way over to the bottle I fetched a glass for myself and turned to look back at him, as he had finally seemed to decide on a question to submit. "How can you control them so flawlessly?"

"I cannot. There are flaws. There have been those with access to the keys that unlock those emotions that are normally given no room for play. Cases stimulate my logic and reason and are able to block the emotions that can creep forth with stagnation."

"Is that why you despise it so?" He asked. I nodded, trying to keep my answers blunt even though I hesitated to be so open with him. I wanted to trust him, but I had no guarantees. I had been hurt before.

"So you enjoy puzzles, something that feeds your curiosity and keeps you from facing emotions. As a doctor I question the healthiness of avoiding your emotions." He seemed to be curious though, more than troubled. I sipped the alcohol before I answered him, though my gray eyes remained fixed on him.

"Doctor, a mind such as my own is not comfortable with the very nature of emotions. I have them, but I must employ my own methods in dealing with them." I began to walk back towards him, intrigued by his response. His first instinct was concern for my well-being. I felt warmth spreading through me and it is not from the brandy.

"So you do have close friends then?" He asked. "I have never heard you speak of them." I realized he was dancing around the subject and my eyes sparkled playfully.

"Well, what do you deduce?" I sat back down and smiled as he sends me a scowl.

"They must be very incredible people to have earned that trust from you." Watson started.

I knew it was not very polite of me to bait him, but I nodded and encouraged him. "Indeed, I would agree."

"I would also assume their own intelligence is exceptional."

"Unrecognized." I corrected quickly.

The silence that followed my interrupted stretched on as his brows drew together. His forehead wrinkled slightly and one side of his mouth drew down in a frown. I studied his face, though I knew it in great detail and recognized the expression of thoughtfulness. Subtly he bit the inside of his lip as his mind turned the facts over in his head and he tried to deduce the picture of the type of person I would grow emotionally attached to. Of course, he wrongly assumed there is more than one, but I hoped that he might guess the correct answer among them.

"You have me completely puzzled I'm afraid. I could not imagine what sort of people you are happy and willing to allow into your confidence in such an inti- a deep way." He finally admitted with a small shrug. I hid my disappointment at his quick surrender in the challenge and instead took pity on him, perhaps out of respect for the man or because he yawned.

I noted the hands of the clock and glanced back at him. "Are you sure you are quite up for this discussion now Watson? I had not noticed the passage of time until now." I posed the question thoughtfully, but hoped he would be able to remain until our conversation could be finished.

"I would be very sorry to go to bed without more answers. You have surprised me greatly." He admitted and I saw the telltale signs of color coming to his cheeks.

I smiled and looked down at my drink. I took another swig of it and continued to avert my eyes away from him. I could feel his green gaze pinning me down as he tried to reason the puzzle out. I knew his mind would immediately fly to the wrong suspects, for his modesty was too great.

"Come Holmes, don't be so guarded." A flash of annoyance lit in Watson's eyes as he went on. "You read me as easily as that paper there," he indicated the paper still beside me, "and yet you are as muddled as hieroglyphics to me."

"I am not as fantastic as you make me to seem. There is a good deal more that you might deduce if you turned your attention to your surroundings rather than me." I replied, settling back with my elbow resting on the arm of the settee and my chin on my thumb while my forefinger was pressed to my temple.

He looked away from me to survey the room that we share. It was the room I was most at home in. Within the four walls of my own bedroom there was little to stimulate me. Within this room I was consistently engaged by his nature. His stubbornness and fire that holds out in his spirit regardless of his wounded body are qualities that I found to be rare in humanity and even scarcer in moral men. He was captivating and absorbing. Even being in the room with him could distract me from whatever I was doing without extreme effort on my part. Fortunately, he could be incredibly silent, which was a blessing and a curse. It enabled me to maintain some focus and yet when I finally realized he was still nearby I would be at first startled by the awareness.

"You aren't the most tidy of people." He threw me a good-natured smile and I knew it is the first sign that he was disgruntled with the state of things. I logged this information away so I would put it right at first opportunity. I only nodded in response to his observation though and leaned forward, hoping for more. "You enjoy puzzles. You cannot stand the monotony of the every day and you seek out mystery. When none is to be found you resort to artificial methods."

I again must avert my eyes as he fixed me with a look that made me feel exposed. He could take this examination to further depths if he had the nerve, but his kindness is one of those mysteries that drew my notice. I remembered back to the first meeting. If I had judged him solely on his character, I would never have given him another thought. Any traditional army doctor would not have accepted me as a flat mate. The unnerving episodes and wild lifestyle would be enough to drive any of them mad. I was only willing to attempt the arrangement after his tolerance of my enthusiasm regarding my experiment and offer of congratulations. He didn't seem uncomfortable by my antics; he had been surprised, but curious. He had willingly shared with me a few of his faults and accepted mine.

And within a month I was certain I had put him through enough hell to drive him away, though he continued to remain. Finally I had to see what he would deem of my work, and left out a clue for his examination. Though his initial response was critique, his subsequent involvement in one of my cases forever altered his mind on the subject. In the months following that one case, I strove to exercise his mind. He did not object to the mental stroking and I was further entranced by his willingness to learn.

"You are correct on every point." I confessed, finally looking back at him. "And?"

His eyes again roam around the room. I saw him taking my shelves, chemistry set, and violin into consideration, but he doesn't say anything about them at first.

"You are looking in the wrong direction." I hinted without thinking. When I realized I had spoke aloud I winced. He looked at me in surprise in time to catch my face twisting in embarrassment and he misread the grimace.

"Are you quite alright?" He asked.

"Yes, I did not intend to say that aloud is all." I answered with a reassuring half-smile.

He returned his attention to the mystery at hand I watched as his gaze went past his desk and other belongings without a thought. I did not intend to lend him any more hints, but again I spoke without consideration.

"No, there." I removed the finger resting on my forehead and pointed to his desk sitting in the corner. He had to turn in his seat a little to really get a good look at it, but as he stared at it for several minutes I wondered if he would grasp my meaning. When he looked back at me with eyes begging for clarity, I knew what seemed obvious to me was not as apparent to him.

"And here." I held out my hand palm up at the bookshelf he had helped to fill. He blinked in surprise when he looked back at me.

Finally I could not take any more of his green eyes boring into me with an unspoken question on his lips. I refused to believe he was as blind as much as he was leading on, and more it was a matter of his pride that refused to voice what I knew he saw. Rising with a sigh I paced before the fireplace for a moment, my hands holding behind my back. "I am sorry Holmes. I wish I could see what you see." He murmured, knowing I was disappointed by my reaction.

The apology melted me. I looked back at him and then before I quite realized what I was doing I found myself leaned over his chair, one hand behind his neck holding his head firmly as I pressed my lips against his. I closed my eyes as the contact welled up passion in me that was indescribable and dizzying. Instead of repelling me as I expected he would or perhaps ought to, it was he who deepened the gesture. A stoke of his tongue along the roof of my mouth nearly caused my knees to give way and I feared at any minute my fragile control would be broken and torn away. Then I regained myself in part and find myself stroking his tongue with my teeth as it slipped away. Eager to chase him, I followed suit, allowing our two fleshy organs to writhe around one another as we explored and attempted to gain a bit of carnal knowledge of one another. I did not want to let this end, but before I knew it, my mind was screaming to me the logical fact that there was no way we could have managed without more oxygen reaching our lungs soon.

When we parted, I straightened up and we were both panting hard and heavy.

There was nothing I could say. I was up front with him and it was no longer my turn to move. I waited in agony for his response, standing over his chair as he gazed at me. When he first tried to speak, his words were inaudible and he swallowed a sip of the brandy before trying again.

"Me?" He sounded amazed when he asked, his green eyes intense and yet bright. "Why me?"

"I could list a million reasons, but none matter, you are the one I chose."

He shook his head, seeming to be amazed at my confession. I didn't know what to expect from him. He had returned the kiss, but I still feared my vulnerability and weakness would be used against me. He put a hand on my arm. "Thank you."

The simple show of gratitude was surprising and a relief. "You are welcome, my dear friend."

I returned to my seat and took up the paper I had discarded, trying to force myself to calm down. It was one step, and I would take no more for some time. However, he seemed to dislike my distance, and was soon joining me on the settee. We sat next to one another for several hours, before eventually we retired to our beds.


End file.
